


Coxswain of the Sea

by SquidbillyBritt



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Boats and Ships, Eventual Romance, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Multi, Recovery, Romance, Slight OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidbillyBritt/pseuds/SquidbillyBritt
Summary: Oliver struggles after a boating accident that took his dad and baby sister from him. Determined not to live his life in fear he sets out, facing his worst demons on the sea and meeting an unexpected ally in his fight for salvation. How much can a person change in a month, and what all can they really find? A certain coxswain is willing to help him figure it all out. A story about facing your fears and finding more than what you were looking for. Did I mention the salty puns? Oliver POV AU Oliver/Felicity





	1. Moored to Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I told myself that I wasn't going to post this until it was completely written, but I'm a woman who needs encouragement (and it's almost completely written already-just a few chapters left) This story will be about 8 Chapters long and I don't have a beta so if it's that bad and you're interested--hmu!
> 
> A few things to keep in mind, Oliver is a bit OOC. Again, Oliver is a bit OOC, so relax. I was a coxswain in the navy but haven't utilized that skill in a hot second, so I know just enough of the boat lingo to mess it up, if I do, sorry, we'll just chalk it up to creative license. 
> 
> Other than all that, I hope you enjoy and drop me a line if you really liked it! <3

 

Chapter 1: Moored to Fears

 

* * *

 

“Oliver, please, you don’t have to do this,” the voice was pleading desperately with him, tinged with a hint of hysteria. His mother always had a flare for dramatics, and while he didn't expect her to understand his need to face this head on he _knew_ she would put up a fight about it none the less.

 

That was one regard of Moira Queen that no one could fault her for. Ever protective—sometimes to a fault—of her children, and especially so after the traumatic experience that had left the small family fractured beyond repair. His father and baby sister’s absence was still an open wound, and Oliver knew how difficult this trip would be on his mother in particular.

 

It was also one of the reasons it had taken him so long to plan this trip.

 

Not only would he be facing his own fears, but he would have to stand tall. Firmly placating any doubt and persistent pleas to change his mind from others.

 

His mother’s being at the top of the list.

 

“Please Oliver, this is madness,” Moira continued, reaching out to grasp at his shirt sleeve and pulling him back towards her, “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. There’s no reason to tempt fate again. No one blames you for not wanting to be on the water again.”

 

And that was the point his mother lost on him.

 

Oliver wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone, had long stopped caring what people thought of him. He’d given up on public opinion since his return, his playboy past and tragic twenties plastered on newspapers and tabloid articles alike, the internet forums and soundbites playing in the self interest of others for a few extra bucks.

 

So rarely were the stories accurate, especially after the accident, and Oliver had closed off all interested to the pictures the press tried to capture of him.

 

“This is for me Mom.” He soothed, placing his hand over the one clutched desperately to his arm, slowly extracting the digits from their tight hold. “If I’m going to take over QC one day I need to be level headed. I need to have full control.” It was a dream his mother always had for him, and Oliver shamelessly used it against her now. “This trip is for me.”

 

And the truth was just that.

 

More than anything Oliver wanted to wake up peacefully. Not choking on the nightmares that swamped his mind like the chilled waters that had almost killed him.

 

Terror was something Oliver had never experienced in his life before the wreck, and it was an odd companion that followed him around in life now. One that lurked in the shadows, the icy fingers reaching out to grasp at his hand when he least expected it.

 

The feeling was not one Oliver wanted sticking around forever, the thought of always being held captive, held back, driving him as mad as the disastrous day itself.

 

After many late nights in deep talk with his unintentional therapist and close friend, John Diggle,Oliver had decided enough was enough, he would take control of his life again.

 

‘ _The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink._ ’

 

The sagely advice had sunk deep into his psyche, the worlds running on repeat. It brought a surge of fear to the forefront, fear at facing the demons, fear at putting himself in that situation intentionally, fear at allowing himself to be so vulnerable, so out of his element.

 

But the parallels could be drawn to his professional world as well. Swimming with the sharks, the term was an adage of sorts in his line of work, and the irony was not lost on him. It was a world of careful planning and calculated risks, but it was also a wold of unknowns and exhilarating challenges.

 

How could Oliver ever fully and freely commit himself to the challenge himself if this stupid fear, this incapacitating terror, chased him in the darkest of the nights. Taunting him in the silence of the day.

 

After waking up for the umpteenth time, mouth choking on water that wasn't there, heart pounding against an undefinable enemy, Oliver had finally had enough.

 

He’d made the call to John the next morning, asking him to reach out to his friends and set the excursion for his sanity in place.

 

He would face this demon once and for all, and whoever came out on the other side as was who he was meant to be.

 

Moira had tears pooling in her eyes, the desperation taking a sharper edge. “Oliver please,” she begged, voice wavering, “please don’t do this, what if something happens? I can’t loose you too. You’re all I have left!”

 

Oliver felt his heart constrict in his chest at the heartbreaking plea. His mother had lost just as much as him that day, arguably more. He could reason this trip would be just as good for her, but could never be so openly cruel to the broken woman.

 

This was for him, and one way or another, Oliver would preserver.

 

“Mom,” he gently placated, clasping her trembling hand between his own. His eyes sought hers, holding just as firm, willing his conviction to bleed through, to give her strength. “I have to do this,” he told her, continuing even as she began shaking her head in denial, “I have to Mom. I can’t let this hang over my head forever. I need to put this to rest.”

 

“What if something happens? I can’t loose you too, I can’t!” Moira fought back, her eyes swelling.

 

Oliver smiled sadly, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her white knuckles.

 

“I’ll be okay.”

 

The promise felt hollow. He had no idea if he would be okay, what ‘ _okay_ ’ even looked like. Oliver had no doubt he would definitely not be ‘okay’ in most aspects of the word, but that was the whole point to this. He’d already escaped the clutches of death, and now he needed to escape the fingers of terror.

 

Oliver would not let his life be held back by something so never ending. It was exhausting. It was humiliating.

 

He was sick of being a slave to his own demons, paralyzed by emotions he had no control over.

 

There were too many things in Oliver’s life he had no control over, could openly recognize and accept that, and the fear was a shackle he needed to shake.

 

“You don’t know that.” Moira denied again, her voice edging into anger, trying anything to get him to change his mind.

 

Oliver shook his head, looking away from his mother’s angry eyes, squeezing her fingers harder, willing her to concede to his point.

 

Oliver couldn't let anything hold him back from this.

 

He couldn't wake up in a cold sweat every night anymore.

 

He _wouldn’t_.

 

No amount of reasoning would pacify his mother though. She had her own demons she needed to face, and his absence would bring them to the forefront.

 

This was for both of them.

 

Whether she saw it or not.

 

“You’re right Mom, I don’t. But I can’t keep living like this, so I have to.” Oliver dropped her hand, pulling her into a hug and ignoring the self-loathing clawing at his chest with her staggered exhale, the tears he knew she had been holding back now soaking into his shirt.

 

“Whatever happens, I have to do this.”

 

Her smalls arms wrapped tight around his back, her form never feeling tinier to him than in this moment.

 

Moira Queen was a strong woman, and he refused to be the person who broke her. The shell he was now eventually would. He would certainly crumble under her, under everyones, expectations. 

 

This would be the hardest part, leaving his mother, fighting this fight, but it was a fight for his very being, and one he was sick of having the underhand at.

 

“Just, please, come back to me.” She whispered, the grief and fear wavering in her voice. Beyond it all Oliver could hear the motherly love, the desperation at loosing another child, the terror of letting your children into the vast world full of impossible dangers and unknowns.

 

It stiffened his resolve; to prove to his Mom, to prove to everyone, to prove to himself, that he was stronger than that.

 

“I will Mom. I will.” Oliver promised, knowing in his bones he would.

 

And for the first time in a year he would be coming home as himself.

 

Not the scared little boy he felt like now.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Diggle asked from the seat beside him, the quiet cabin of his Mercedes the last safe haven Oliver would have for a very long time.

 

A month to be exact.

 

“If you’re not ready we can always hold off. There’s no need to push yourself so hard,” Digg continued at his silence, his voice free of judgement or concern. Just a neutral tenor he knew Oliver responded best to.

 

But Oliver didn't want John to ask him that question. He didn't want the luxury of an out, and it was especially tempting now, sitting in the quiet car, gaze fixed to the image in front of him.

 

To any other the picture was beautifully made.Clean white railings, fresh wooden planks lined out and across like an intricate maze, bright sun shinning on raised poles, shimmering in the light like glitter and swaying softly in the breeze. The effortless crescendo and ebbing of the dock feeling as if the body of water below it’s floors was breathing, a small peak into the power hidden within the darkest depths.

 

A life of its own. A living entity that took without mercy and laughed without care.

 

He’d discovered that cold cruelty first hand.

 

Oliver fought to swallow around the knot in this throat, trying to tamper the wash of anxiety that rushed through his blood, the tips of his fingers tingling where they laid limp in his lap.

 

This was the moment of truth staring him in the eye like a taunting challenge. Daring him to go home, daring him to foolishly jump, daring him to dive head first where he was sure to drown.

 

A hand on his shoulder shook Oliver from the darker turn of thoughts. He tilted his head slowly to look into the steady eyes of Diggle.

 

“Oliver, you don’t have to do this.”

 

There was no judgement in his gaze, no pity, no concern, and for that Oliver was glad.

 

He was glad because even as much as he wanted to stay, to go back home and forget about this insanely radical idea, as much as he was willing to suffer in his own turmoil, he knew he couldn't. He didn't get this far to just turn back in the car.

 

This excursion had been carefully planned, and properly executed. No one on the ship knew who he was, multi-million dollar child, but Oliver didn't care. He couldn't just turn back now, not after everything he’d done to finally get to this point.

 

Slowly, and with a confidence he hopped was convincing, Oliver shook his head at Diggle. “No. I need to do this,” he repeated the mantra he’d been telling everyone, the words heavy in his mouth, feeling more final than they had at his house, standing before him mother. The false pretense stripped here in his final moments of solace.

 

Diggle nodded, frowning for the first time while retracting his hand. He glanced over Oliver’s shoulder at the docks below, a look of remorse warping his face.

 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay alone?” John questioned again after a drawn moment.

 

Oliver felt the anxiety clench at his heart with the reminder, trying to imagine what this whole trip was going to look like now with his one lifeline missing. The plan had always been for Diggle to accompany him, help him when things were getting too tough. But Diggle had a separate life outside of Oliver’s problems, things of his own going on, a pregnant wife being one, and after an unexpected scare Diggle had reluctantly backed out at the last minute.

 

It was an understandable decision, and when John had told him he was going to re-schedule the trip Oliver had found himself snapping out a ‘no’ without thought, faster than he could even comprehend the gravity of the action.

 

Now, in the quiet leather interior, demons gleaming with white teeth through breaking tides, Oliver was questioning his decision to go through with all of this.

 

Slowly Oliver shook his head, looking back through the tinted window towards his new home for the next month, hoping it wasn’t his last here on earth.

 

“I came out of the water alone, it’s only fitting I go back in it alone.”

 

The worlds were hollowed, the conviction borderline on self-loathing. Oliver knew Diggle could hear it from the heavy sigh coming from the pensive man.

 

“It doesn’t have to be like that Oliver,” he reprimanded, clapping him on the shoulder again, “and you’re not alone.”

 

Oliver shot Diggle a half smile over his shoulder, knowing the grin didn't reach his eyes by the look Diggle shot his way again.

 

“Thanks Digg,” he simply conceded, not wanting to talk about this anymore. It was finally time to put the money where his mouth was.

 

With a deep sigh Oliver steeled his nerves, reaching out with cold fingers to grasp the door handle and opening the world to his nightmare.

 

The first steps out of the car had him pausing, taking in a deep, steading breath. The echoing door opening and closing behind him was lost to the scent of salt, the feeling of the sun beating on the back of his neck, the chattering calls of seagulls that would be his soundtrack for the next weeks on the water. Oliver closed his eyes, centering his strength, drawling from the fear that was clenching his hands, thumping heavily in his chest.

 

He could do this.

 

He _would_ do this.

 

The sound of the trunk slamming closed had Oliver looking over to Diggle, watching as he strapped the small bag over his shoulder, its containing only clothes and a few personal items, before walking over to him.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Oliver commented, knowing he was going to anyways.

 

“Let me walk down with you.” Diggle carried on, ignoring his comment.

 

Oliver shrugged, tilting his head to let Diggle take the lead. He wouldn’t have asked Dig to take him down the pier, but he was glad Diggle knew him well enough to offer regardless.

 

The walk across the pavement ended soon, and Oliver felt his nerves ramp up as cement transitioned to slanted metal, before ending too quickly wood. He gulped heavily, pausing only a half second as his feet planted on the dock, feeling the unsteady floating sensation that always came when walking along docks. From here the scent of salt water was stronger, the small clapping of water against the sides a mocking laugher to his ears.

 

Oliver followed Diggle silently, keeping his eyes trained to his wide back, refusing to look around, refusing to loose his nerve.

 

They turned at the end, coming up to a moored vessel, the size of the boat larger now that he was closer, his eyes roaming across the bright green hull, taking in every detail he could of the metal death trap that would be his home for the next month.

 

“You okay man?” Diggle asked, pulling him from his musings.

 

Oliver cleared his throat, tapping the feelings trying to surface down and smiled tightly at Diggle.

 

“Yeah.” He clipped out, trying to lighten the mood and wipe the concern he saw creeping into his friend’s eyes, “Relax Dig, it’s not like I’m going to hop on and it’ll sink right here.”

 

“Actually, that’s factually incorrect, statistically for every boat that sinks underway four sink in the slip.” A cheeky voice interrupted their conversation, swinging Oliver’s eyes to the new speaker.

 

Beside him he could hear Diggle clear his throat loudly, seeing him shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

 

The transformation that happened to the woman before him was almost comical, her smile, so wide and bright dropped with her mouth opening at the look Diggle shot her, her face contorting into mortification as she swung her eyes back at Oliver, raising her arms and waving them wildly in front of her.

 

“Oh, no, no, we’re not going to sink! Not my ship, she’s very well taken care of! Most mishaps that happen while moored are entirely preventable. I take very good preventative measures! She’s as study as they come,” she rushed to assure him, slapping her hand against the side of the metal, wincing at the loud sound it made.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m not making a very good first impression. My name’s Felicity Smoak, it’s nice to meet you,” the woman, Felicity, continued on, jutting her hand out for him to take.

 

Oliver stared at her outstretched hand, reaching up and clasping it in his own, feeling a small smile split his lips.

 

“Oliver.” He responded, flicking his eyes up and watching as a wide smile broke across her face again.

 

She was a beautiful woman, he would be blind to not have noticed. Her blonde hair had been bleached by overexposure to the sun, her skin a sun-kissed hue that seemed flawless and without any breaks. She was wearing simple shorts and a tank top, a tiny logo printed on the side, proper enough attire for being in the exposed elements constantly.

 

Oliver found that he liked her, this Felicity. Her personality already as bright as her smile.

She turned her attention from him to Diggle in a flash, smiling wider at the man and stepping over to hug him quickly, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips.

 

“John! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How is everyone? How’s Lyla doing? I heard you were expecting your first baby!” She excitedly asked, pulling back to allow him to answer.

 

Diggle smiled at the woman, the joy in his eye obvious to Oliver. They seemed to know each other another well, and Oliver briefly wondered how Diggle had met someone so vibrant, it was a bit out of the ordinary from his normal associates.

 

“Ah, Felicity, it’s great to see you again. Lyla is doing well, we had a small scare so doctors orders were to stay in town and close to the phone. We might have our little one sooner than we think.” Oliver already knew all this, it was the reason Diggle was unable to accompany him, and the reminder sent a small fissure through his false confidence. He would never demand Diggle accompany him on this excursion, knew why he needed to be home, but still couldn't help the selfish part of him that longed to have a familiar face on the cruise.

 

“Well, one day I’ll get you to go on a trip with me, but family comes first. You better take care of them.” Felicity smoothed over quickly, unconcerned with his absence.

 

Diggle reached over and clasped Oliver on the shoulder, ignoring the eye roll he shot him. “Well I’d never dream of leaving Oliver in anyone else's hands but your’s. I know you're the best coxswain out there.

 

Oliver shrugged Diggle’s hand off, bristling slightly at the barb, “I’m completely capable of taking care of myself,” he muttered, blatantly ignored by the two carrying on.

 

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to him on my watch.” Felicity swore, nodding at Diggle in all seriousness.

 

“I can take care of myself.” Oliver interrupted again, annoyed with how obviously they were talking over him.

 

Felicity turned her attention on him, a bright smile on her face. “Well I’m sure you can, and you’ll be expected to. There’s no dead weight on this cruise, so you’ll have to hold your own.”

 

Oliver wanted to be irked at her, even mildly miffed by her caviler demeanor, but instead he found himself smiling. It was refreshing. To not have eyes following your every move in pity, solemn smiles dancing around conversation topics, to be treated just like everyone else.

 

It was oddly invigorating.

 

Their conversation was just catching up to him, and Oliver felt his brow furrow, watching Felicity with a raised eye. “Wait a minute, _you’re_ the captain of this ship?” He asked suddenly, too quickly to comprehend how standoffish his statement was, but knowing immediately by the look Diggle leveled his way.

 

Felicity raised a challenging brow at him, her hands folding across her chest and tilting her head at him. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that? Is that judgement I hear?” She retorted with a snap.

 

Oliver shook his head, feeling a larger smile break across his face, her furrowed brow elating him in unexpected ways.

 

“No, I’m impressed.”

 

The change was instantaneous, the emotions that played across her face plain and honest in a way that made him curious towards her, to see how far that honesty went. Wondering how open someone could be so effortlessly.

 

Felicity’s cheeks heated up, from her quick defense or something more Oliver didn't know, but the shift was entertaining.

 

She muttered incoherently under her breath, turning away from them with flaming cheeks and gestured for them to follow her lead. Felicity didn't look back to see if they were before she continued on as if the previous exchange had never happened. “We’ll be underway for a month. You arrived just in time, we set off in about thirty minutes. Last minute checks are being done now. The crew consists of essential personnel so everyone has their own job to do and you’re expected to not get in their way.” A quick look was leveled his way from John, part humor, part concern.

 

“If you have any questions, ask them, safety is first on this mission and it’s never to be compromised.” Felicity paused, looking over to Oliver with a raised eyebrow, “there will be no funny business.”

 

Oliver didn't know what ‘funny business’ was, but he could only nod back with a small grin, following again as she guided them on the boat, showing them specific rooms and spaces as she toured them around the ship.

 

For as big as the ship looked from the outside, Oliver was also shocked by how small it felt. The rooms were nothing elaborate, their function clear from space to space, no bulkhead or bed left undesignated. Felicity stopped longer on a room that was equally as small as the others, two beds and a small desk crammed into the square footage. Everything compartmentalized in a way that screamed efficiency over comfort.

 

“This will be your room for the next few weeks, your bunkmate is Barry Allen, he’s a good guy, just a little clumsy.” Felicity explained cheerily, waiting for Oliver’s nod of understanding before spinning on her toes, leading them further into the ship, showing him the galley, the research rooms, the helm room, and pointing out her own quarters.

 

Finally Felicity made her rounds to a complete stop back on the main deck, breathless and with a smile from the non-stop chattering that had been coming from her mouth.

 

“Any questions?” She asked, her eyes as bright in the sun. Oliver shook his head, watching as she turned towards Diggle, her smile taking on a cute frown. Felicity leapt up suddenly, engulfing the larger man in a hug. “Oh John, I’m going to miss you! Don’t be a stranger and let me know if you need anything.”

 

Dig patted the much smaller girl on the back, smiling at her when she pulled away.

 

“You be safe Felicity.” He parted.

 

“I always am!”

 

She shot her eyes back to Oliver, pointing back towards the direction of the ship’s cabins, her animated personality capturing him.

 

“You can go put your bag in your bunk and make yourself at home. I need to head up and get everything ready. We’ll be leaving any minute now. It was nice to meet you Oliver, I’ll see you around!” And just as suddenly as she made her appearance earlier she was sauntering away, laughing at crew members and hollering things in her wake.

 

Oliver reached a hand up in parting, a small lift to the corner of his mouth, eyes following her retreating form a moment longer. He turned his gaze to Diggle, jumping a little at the look leveled his way.

 

“What?” Oliver challenged to the blatant stare.

 

“I think you’ll be just fine,” Dig told him easily, handing over the strapped bag slug over his shoulder.

 

“Knock it off John.”

 

Diggle laughed lightheartedly, a confident grin on his face. “You’ve got this man,” he told him easily, “and if you need anything Felicity has a satellite phone.”

 

Oliver nodded, taking the bag from Diggle and looking around the deck at the crew members mulling around, steadily moving equipment and re-checking safety ropes and lines.

 

“Thanks Dig.” He muttered, exchanging the final goodbyes, taking John’s hand in quick shake and brotherly pat on the back, feeling for the first time like he could possibly do this.

 

And, just maybe, he could succeed.

 

Oliver watched as Diggle disembarked the boat, his eyes finally scanning about once John slipped from sight. Finally alone, for the first time, the sounds of seagulls and sea claps in the air, Oliver could feel the threat of apprehension brewing just under the surface.

 

Crew members moved about, pulling lines and shouting over each other before the blast of the vessels horn sound through the bright day. The final ropes were pulled and Oliver could only watch as everyone worked with a practiced ease

 

Slowly walking to the edge of the ship, pausing an arms length from the side, his mind wandered, stomach lurching as the boat began squealing and moaning in ways that only a motor could.

 

With a final blast of the horn and engine reeving at the ready, the ship began a smooth moving acceleration, pulling away from the pier through the water steadily. Oliver knew the moment they were completely free of the pier without even looking, his heart thudding like a weight in his chest, his final escape gone for the next four weeks.

 

He was now headed towards every nightmare that waited for him in the deepest recess of his mind.

 

Though the haunting images would surely come to whisper sinister horrors to his mind, Oliver couldn't help the small smile from slipping on his lips, a tiny victory shinning on his bleak thoughts.

 

With an effortless grace, the commanding coxswain had him on board. And Oliver realized that throughout it all, so enthralled he was with Felicity’s animated flare, not once had he felt the bitter tension of anxiety clawing at his chest.

 

The hardest part was over.

 

And he had never felt anything but ease.

 

Oliver’s eyes shone over the sparkling blue of the ocean, a new fire in his chest.

 

He _would_ do this.

 

* * *

 


	2. Salty Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super huge shout out to my beta LIngall, she's also a writer y'all so go check her works out! You wont be disappointed. This one is short, but it is what it is. Plot has to get a move on.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Salty Air

 

* * *

 

‘ _I can’t do this_.’ Oliver thought, swallowing heavily and willing the sharp pain in his stomach to settle down.

 

Another languid roll had a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, teeth gnashing in his mouth, imploring his body to listen to him for once.

 

‘ _Holy shit, what was I thinking? I can’t do this_.’ He thought again, his hand reaching out to steady his weight against the small bulkhead beside him.

 

With every sway, every gentle rock, every endless roll, Oliver felt his stomach cramping, his mind blurring, vision tunneling.

 

It was hell.

 

The sudden onslaught was oddly surprising, though Oliver should have known that not even twelve hours into the excursion the sea would already be in battle with him, her cold wrath as endless as time, her memory a boundless depth. 

 

Another tilt to the hull had Oliver swallowing hard, finally succumbing to the temptation to rest his back against the chilled metal and slide to the floor, placing his head between his bent knees.

 

He felt pathetic.

 

‘ _Someone kill me._ ’

 

“Woah there, are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, breaking through the vapid thoughts swirling in his mind.

 

Oliver clenched his eyes tightly shut, mortified to be found in such a state, unwilling to open his mouth lest something more unpleasant spew forth.

 

Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to stumble upon him, sitting like a child, incapacitated and unable to gain his bearings?

 

“Hey,” Felicity called again, and a moment later he felt her hand resting gently on his taut shoulder, “are you feeling okay?”

 

There was no point in lying to her, it was pretty obvious to anyone who did this for a living that he was most certainly not okay.

 

“I’ll be fine.” He bit out, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat, unwilling to raise his head and look up into her concerned eyes.

 

The hand on his shoulder rubbed over the balled muscles gently, gliding after a moment to the underside of his arm and tugging upward.

 

“It looks like someone doesn’t have their sea legs yet,” she teased softly, and while Oliver felt another rush of embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position, he was surprised to hear more concern than rebuff in her tone.

 

“Come on, sitting here will just make it worse, let me help you.” She tugged again at his arm. With a steadying breath Oliver stood slowly, letting her help him find his bearings as his legs shook like jello under him.

 

He pulled to his full height with her help, tilting his face up and closing his eyes, still unwilling to look down at the woman who would surly judge him. Everyone did, it was only a matter of time.

 

“Not a word.” He growled out, finding anger much easier to voice than gratitude.

 

That small hand again slid to his back, patting gently, soothingly.

 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us.” Felicity told him, guiding him forward and away from his hiding spot.

 

Oliver could only scoff, feeling the sweat roll down his neck in a way that made him want to bend at the waist and hurl.

 

Wouldn’t that be just great.

 

“Trust me, it does,” she continued, ignoring his anger. “Hell, it’s happened to me before too. Sometimes the water just gets to us. But sitting there isn’t going to make you feel better.”

 

Oliver chose to keep his mouth shut, letting her guide him up along the flight of stairs that led to the main observatory, ignoring the few bypassing crew and concentrating on the deep inhales and exhales of his breath.

 

After what felt like forever they finally veered left, into the bridge Oliver remembered Felicity showing him on the initial tour. The room was more alive now than before, switchboards and lights buzzing with controls and signals, detailed maps laid and stacked atop one another, and the main helm locked to its cruising position.

 

Felicity guided him to a bench behind the captain’s chair, letting him plop heavily into the seat. Oliver closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensation that continued to roll and creep along his body, oddly similar to the nightmares that so frequently plagued his mind.

 

The sea had a sense of humor apparently, her warning loud in Oliver’s ears.

 

“Motion sickness sucks,” Felicity chatted, and Oliver could hear her shuffling around, opening and closing cabinets before she was back in front of him, “here, take these, it should help.”

 

Slowly, he cracked an eye open, her hand outstretched before him, a small pill in the palm of one, the other offering a bottle of water.

 

He took it without question, she could have given him anything at this point and Oliver would have taken it without hesitation—anything would feel better than the feelings he was currently drowning in. She could poison him for all he cared.

 

“It’s Dramamine,” Felicity told him, watching him slug the water back like he was dying. Oliver certainly felt like he could too.

 

“It should help with the motion sickness, this room should help too.”

 

Oliver opened his eyes fully at that statement, looking around slowly at the room they were in. It was a fishbowl design, glass around all the walls, giving an endless view of the surrounding waters, digital monitors and silent alarms beeping and pinging in a language that was completely foreign to him.

 

He arched a brow towards the little coxswain, the curling in his stomach still a very real threat.

 

Felicity continued at his questioning look, walking over to the glass and tapping at small tubes running along the bottom of the framework, an odd blue liquid equally bubbled in the design.

 

Oliver watched as they swayed and centered in synchronicity against the ships constant rolling. He looked towards her again, seeing a similar layout in the window in front of him also, realizing they were all that way, in his peripheral and at his line of sight.

 

“What is it?” He asked after a second, swallowing again to reassure himself nothing but the question would come out.

 

Felicity smiled brightly at him, her chest preening in pride.

 

“It’s my own design! The brain sometimes has issues visually perceiving movement against the vestibular’s sense of movement, and this helps connect the two. It’s a simple solution for a miserable feeling.” She told him happily, and Oliver found that the longer he stared at her, the better he was feeling, the nausea ebbing to a dull throb.

 

Oliver shook his head, looking down at his hands clasping the water bottle with a small smile.

 

“Amazing.” He muttered, finding himself at a loss for words.

 

And he was amazed. Twice now he had the pleasure of bumping into Felicity, and twice now she’d managed to defy whatever expectations he’d set for her.

 

“You must think I’m some pathetic fool.” He raised his eyes, staring at her confusion, “I’m not some charity case.” He found himself defending, unable to keep the bite of anger from his voice.

 

Felicity stared at him for a long moment, her mouth a thin line, giving nothing away. The silence cloaking the room in tension.

She finally said, “No, I don't. In fact I was just thinking how admirable it is for someone to do what you are.”

 

Oliver scoffed again and clenched the bottle in his hand, the plastic crinkling with an ugly sound.

 

“I do,” Felicity persisted, “I don't know anyone who would willingly get back on a vessel after going through what you did.”

 

Oliver knew logically that Felicity had to know something about why he was with them. Diggle was her friend and he had no connections with this team, but to hear it verbalized made an angry defense bubble up. He didn't want to see pity in her eyes. He didn't want to be handled with kid gloves. He didn't want her to think he was less of a man.

 

“You don't know anything about me.” He shot back, his eyes hard.

 

An unexpected defiance flared up to match his own, her body standing ramrod straight, fist clenching tightly at her sides.

 

“And you don't know anything about me.” Felicity clipped back.

 

Oliver looked away, shocked by the flush of shame that had him pulling back instantly, realizing too late his misstep.

 

She was right. He didn't know anything about her.

 

He was so concerned Felicity would sit there and judge him, that he was blind to see his own judgement against her. From their first encounter till now Oliver had done the same thing he’d been so ready to condemn her of. All she was doing was helping him. Not a mocking pitch, petty comment, or judgmental look ever slanted his way.

 

Oliver knew he’d fuck this trip up some way. Apparently he was going to fuck it up thoroughly, and do it in more ways than one.

 

Slowly he raised his eyes, meeting her angry gaze. He shook his head, knowing that if he wanted to make this trip worthwhile, he would need to learn more than he thought. Admitting when he was wrong being one of them.

 

Gathering his bearings Oliver took a deep breath, raising himself up and standing at his full height, watching as the angry eyes from the little spitfire in front of him never left his form.

 

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in an unconscious gesture he’d developed since his accident.

 

“That was rude of me.” He told her slowly, waiting for the tension to slowly lower from her rigid frame.

 

Oliver shifted his gaze away, staring out at the vast nothingness that was the sea, realizing that if he was going to give himself over fully to this mission he would also need to give himself to her. If it weren't for all her knowledge, all her equipment, he would be lost. It was a sobering realization to truly grasp the concept of help, and Oliver was beginning to recognize that in order to find yourself you sometimes needed to rely on someone else.

 

He needed all the help he could get.

 

If he didn't find a way to change, then he’d walk off this ship the same man as he had walked on.Oliver refused to put himself on this vessel to not walk away as something better—someone better.

 

“This whole trip has me worked up.” He admitted after a long moment, still refusing to look at her, unwilling to stare at his shame, unwilling to address the ball tightening in his stomach.

 

He could hear Felicity sigh, feel the tension in the room draining, and still his fingers rubbed nervously, shoulders tense and body ready for a fight.

 

If only Thea could see him now.

 

She wouldn't even recognize him.

 

He couldn't either.

 

“It’s fine, I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Felicity said easily, ignoring his tense frame to continue on, “I understand why you’re so anxious. I shouldn’t have antagonized you.”

 

Still Oliver said nothing, treading in waters unknown, apologies and asking for help such a foreign concept to him. The intense emotions made him want to retreat, to lick his wounds, to be away from it all.

 

“You don't have to apologize to me,” he bit out, unable to keep from saying nothing.

 

“Oh well! I already did, so it’s over. We’re both sorry, it’s time to move on.” She told him easily, the shuffling of papers from behind him indicating her attention diverting to something else.

 

Oliver tilted his head, looking briefly over his shoulder, watching her map along coordinates he couldn't even begin to understand.

 

He was never a master sailor. His father wasn't either. Being a part of the ‘elite’ had afforded them the luxury of hired help.

 

Oliver wondered if they had hired Felicity’s help, if the disaster of that night would have ever happened.

 

If his father, if his baby sister, would have made it home.

 

The turning thoughts added with the uncomfortable atmosphere were making the walls feel tighter, his muscles bunching with tension. Everything mounting at once feeling like too much, too soon.

 

The past couldn't change, Oliver couldn't change, and this stupid boat couldn't change course just for him.

 

Turning, Oliver walked from the room without another word, heading briskly towards his bunk. Isolation was both his best, and worse, companion, and while the thunderous storm in his mind was never silent, he could pretend it didn't exist in his quiet exile. Maybe he could nap for a few hours even, pretend the world didn't exist. That his pain didn’t exist. That this ship didn’t exist. That Felicity didn't exist.

 

So far this trip was going just as he’d imagined; horribly.

 

This was a mistake.

 

* * *

 

 

‘ _Ollie!_ ’

 

‘ _Thea!_ ’

 

‘ _Oliver go!_ ’

 

‘ _Dad!_ ’

 

A choking gasp had Oliver jolting up in bed, his mouth sputtering for air around water that wasn't there, the chasing crunch of metal and echoing screams following him into wakefulness.

 

Oliver balled his fist, slamming it against the hard metal of the bulkhead, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, wide eyes staring into nothing.

 

They were more vivid now, clearer, the water colder.

 

This trip was a mistake.

 

Everything was just getting worse. There was no end in sight for him.

 

The sheets he was laying in were bunched around his sweating form, the lump in his throat choking his lungs.

 

He needed to be out of here. He needed fresh air.

 

He needed to do _something_ and now, before he was swallowed whole.

 

The thought had him moving, throwing the tangled sheets off his legs and standing shakily, bracing his weight against his bunk with the ships swaying ballad, fists balling tightly.

 

Why did he even do this?

 

Was he trying to punish himself further for every sin he’d committed? Every regret he wallowed in?

 

How was being here—pushing himself to be here—ever going to fix anything?

 

Oliver was broken.

 

There was nothing left to piece together.

 

He needed some air. He just needed to breathe.

 

‘ _The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink._ ’

 

A mirthless chuckle split his lips, his face contorting in pain, the words Diggle spoke to him a taunting mantra in the face of his weakness.

 

He clenched his eyes tightly shut, taking a steady breath, centering his emotions.

 

He was better than this. He could do better than this.

 

With that thought Oliver opened his eyes, staring at nothing, locking the lid down, tightening the screws of his sanity.

 

This trip might be a mistake, but they were already underway, and he could either wallow in his agony, or face the world, and Oliver Queen was no coward.

 

Broken he may be, but coward he was not.

 

With the determination licking his heels Oliver strode from the windowless room, taking the small maze towards the open air of the outdoors. As soon as he burst through the metal hatch the salty air met his nose.

 

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, centering his thoughts, pushing harder, cramming tighter, feeling the semblance of normality seep back into his bones.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

Oliver couldn't believe it.

 

How she always managed to find him at his worst was cosmic, a sick cosmic joke, and he was beginning to wonder if she had a hidden talent for it.

 

“Just peachy.” He muttered cynically.

 

He vowed to no longer take his anger out on the small blonde, but it was easier said than done, especially when she seemed to keep appearing when he was so on edge, at his lowest, ready to snap at anyone in his path.

 

“Did the Dramamine work?” Felicity innocently inquired.

 

Oliver opened his eyes, sliding them to the woman leaning precariously along the thin railing separating her from uncertain waters below.

 

His heart leapt in sudden fear, but he tamped it down immediately, reasoning with his fear.

 

It wasn't his place to reprimand her.

 

Felicity was more familiar with this boat than him, and with that came a sense of comfort. Surly she knew how far she could push the boundaries on her own vessel.

 

Oliver swallowed thickly, eyes barring heavily on her. “Like a charm, thank you.”

 

Felicity shrugged with a smile, “That’s good! If you need more just let me know. I always have plenty in stock.”

 

Oliver nodded, having to look away again as the sight of her so close to the edge made him wildly uncomfortable.

 

Felicity must have perceived his expression as something more, for a second later she started chatting away animatedly, a trait he was beginning to suspect was her own nervous tick.

 

“Are you hungry?” She asked, her head tilted innocently. “It’s chow time and I’m starving. Plus, being the new guy I figured you might feel awkward eating alone. Do you want to come with me? The foods pretty good, not five start restaurant good, but it’s better than some other stuff out there.”

 

He couldn't even think of eating, his stomach still in tight knots from his earlier dream.

 

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not hungry.”

 

A weird expression washed over Felicity’s face, and Oliver wondered if he’d offended her. She looked away quickly, lips pursed, arms crossing.

 

“Sure, well, if you get hungry later you can probably snag mid-rats, but they don't usually have a very good variety. There’s no need to starve though.” Felicity, finally, took a step away from the railing, a small pressure lessening in his chest at the action. She turned without pausing further, walking down the narrow walkway towards the stern of the ship, leaving his presence with a brisk wave over her shoulder and disappearing out of his line of sight.

 

Oliver breathed deeply again, feeling like he’d somehow misjudged their conversation.

 

One misstep after another. Oliver Queen, the hot mess, everyone would agree.

 

Scared of demons that couldn't hurt him, haunted by visions he couldn't change.

 

Oliver was sure he would squander any type of sympathy from Felicity by the end of this trip.

 

He wasn't a man worth holding your breath for.

 

That’s how people drowned.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Wakes of Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is regretting this right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Beta LIngall is the absolute best! She makes this so much better. Go read her works, she's as great an editor as she is a writer. 
> 
> A small glossary of sorts, I didn't know if I wanted to keep this term in, but Barry is kind of a know it all, so he'd have all the lingo down. 
> 
> Evolution - A naval term used to describe any scheduled event happening. The term evolution (from its literal meaning of "unfolding" of something into its true or explicit form) carries a connotation of gradual improvement or directionality from a beginning to an end point.
> 
> Starboard - The side of a ship or aircraft that is on the right when one is facing forward.

 

* * *

 

**Chapter 3: Wakes of Terror**

 

* * *

 

 

It had been four days.

 

Four days of mundane tasks, Oliver’s place on the ship turning into more of a muscled errand boy than an actual job. He was fine with the work though. Oliver knew he lacked the training and technical finesse that was required for many tasks the crew was well experienced with. Plus, it kept his mind busy, prevented him from dwelling on unpleasant thoughts and never ending nightmares.

 

It was a nice change in pace to be busy with new monotonous work. At Queen Consolidated he’d always been stuck in the building, head buried in paper work, eyes avoiding the corners, the darkness always waiting for a chance to creep into his mind. Out here, on the open ocean, with few papers to sign or conference calls to make, Oliver’s strength was being put to good use with the heavier work load.

 

He reached down, helping another man pick up the surveying equipment, carefully moving it to the designated spot and wrapping cords and chains to the proper mechanics as he’d been shown. His muscles burned in a used way, the sun beating on his back, his shirt long since discarded.

 

Sweat ran down the back of his spine, the gentle breeze from the ocean air cooling the heat in a serendipitous rinse and repeat, the continuous labor kept him energized and honed into the work at present.

 

He would almost forget too, how close to the precipice of the edge he was walking.

 

Then a wave would rock against the hull of the ship, his step free falling in an odd sensation, his stomach rolling, reminding him again exactly where he was.

 

Why he was here?

 

Oliver shook his head, righting himself from the held crouched position, legs burning from the constant need to balance.

 

Another rock of the hull had Oliver reaching out quickly, closing his eyes with a deep inhale. He didn’t want to crew to think he was a wimp, a dead weight, scared of the water in a way which they could never understand, having been on it for many more hours than he ever was.

 

Oliver opened his eyes after steadying himself, watching as the sailor in front of him simply moved with the boat, unaffected by the constant sway and rocking of the vessel.

 

Sea legs, Felicity had called them, the term now made sense to him.

 

Oliver had yet to find his.

 

“Tides rough today,” his bunkmate, Barry, said to him, looking out over the open ocean, eyes assessing the waters. “Felicity will probably have to delay today’s evolution.” Barry muttered on, wiping at the sweat gathering along his brow.

 

Oliver thought to the woman in question. Wondering what she was doing now.

 

Ever since their last exchange she had made herself scarce. He would see the tail end of her high ponytail turning around corners, hear the bells of her laughter across the deck. Oliver knew she was ever present, and still he caught not a glimpse of her.

 

He was beginning to suspect that she was avoiding him.

 

But really, he couldn't bring himself to blame her. Every encounter so far had been uncomfortable, a half step off, and he could only imagine the impression he was making.

 

Somehow she was the one who only ever saw the man Oliver tried to keep hidden from everyone else.

 

He didn’t want to be that person, and the thought of how poorly he spoke to her made him ashamed.

 

Another rolling tide had the ship arching sharper than before, and Oliver plastered himself against the wall, the clapping sound of water against metal, followed by a cold misting spray, splashing his exposed torso.

 

He gulped heavily, his fingertips clenching and releasing at his sides, heart thudding heavily in his chest.

 

Flashes danced behind his closed eyes, ones he hadn't realized had clamped shut, images of dark skies, howling winds, terrified screams, echoing with a haunting taunt in his mind.

 

Another crew member came around the corner, spotting Barry and Oliver, and gesturing to the smaller man staring out at the ocean.

 

“Barry! Felicity says to tie it down! We’re going to have to postpone for a few hours!” He called over loudly, waving at Barry’s nod and ducked back around the corner.

 

“Well, I guess that answers that,” Barry muttered, squatting again to begin securing the equipment down, his furrowed brow and unamused grunts giving his displeasure away.

 

Oliver breathed deeply, turning towards Barry and waiting for instructions. Barry glanced up at him briefly, waving his hand in a shooing direction. “You can leave, I’ve got it from here. Thanks for the help.”

 

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked, partly to distract himself, half hoping Barry would take him on his offer, the other half wanting to be away from the side of the ship as soon as possible.

 

Barry nodded with a grunt, reaching up and grabbing a swinging rope with an ease that spoke of familiarity with the motion. “Yeah, just some knots I have to put down, not much you can help me with there. I’d go grab a bite or something, we’ll have to wait till the tide dies down to do anything, and it can get boring.”

 

Oliver nodded, pushing away from the wall shakily, hoping the swaying of the ship concealed his stance.

 

Barry was too busy working, his bent position and sway of the tide causing a loose pen from his shirt pocket to slip out, the plastic tube rolling away quicker than Barry could catch, tipping over the side of the ship and disappearing from their sight.

 

Barry sighed, his shoulders slumping, face upturning towards Oliver, a grimace on his expression. “It never fails.” He simply told him, and Oliver couldn't help the smirk from lining his mouth.

 

If there was one thing he’d learned about Barry Allen over the last few days, it was that he was an unimaginable klutz. Dropping, slipping, and loosing things at a comical level.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stick around?” Oliver asked again, crossing his arms across his chest and smirking down at the other man.

 

Barry shook his head, huffing angrily to himself, waving at the equipment in front of him. “No, it’s fine, this is really just a one man job from here. It’s already secured, I just have to tighten it down and a few others, but I’ll be fine.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Oliver drew out, watching the smaller man hunker back down to the task in front of him.

 

“Really, I’m sure,” he grunted, putting his weight into the knot he was tying. His attention completely absorbed in fastening the complex loops.

 

“I’ll see you around then,” Oliver stated, not waiting to see if the smaller man would have any parting words, heading towards the galley which he knew to be deep in the ship, away from windows.

 

A place he could hide away in.

 

‘ _The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink.’_

 

Oliver scoffed at the reminder, grabbing the stair railing as the ship swayed again, his feet misstepping. There was a difference between staring your fear down and tempting fate, and Oliver felt precariously close to tempting fate out on deck, so close to the water’s edge.

 

His jaw clenched at the thought that one wrong lurch could send him back into the waiting arms of the water which would surly feel less generous to spit him out a second time.

 

“No thank you,” he muttered to the silent walls, treading carefully to the galley, intent on finding a fixed seat to plant his rear and possibly eat some food.

 

While the anxiety and fear of this excursion made it difficult to stomach much of anything, the heavy labor and harsh sun made it mandatory to eat.

 

The push and pull was exhausting, but Oliver conceded to choke something down. He needed to eat or he would make himself sick. And being bed ridden was the last thing Oliver wanted to be.

 

It was best to keep busy, and to do that it was imperative to keep up his strength.

 

The galley was nearly empty, most crew members above deck, securing equipment and changing plans, and for that Oliver was grateful.

 

Down below it was hotter, the A/C flipped off during the day to conserve energy, most everyone working above lacking the need for the extra resources. With no breeze to cool his warmed flesh, Oliver could feel the sweat dripping down his body, the still air and the clammy feeling making him feel sick to his stomach all over again.

 

He plopped down on the closest seat, rows of fixed metal seats and tables available, resting his head in his palms. Slowly he breathed through his nose, gathering his wits before he attempted to eat anything.

 

A shuffling sound gave him pause. He raised his head, seeing an outstretched hand in front of his eyes, a small familiar pill and bottle of water jutted out before him.

 

Oliver clenched his eyes shut, taking another deep breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

 

‘S _eriously?_ ’

 

Swallowing heavily he cleared his mind, trying to remind himself where he was, who he was with, how he’d already treated her.

 

Tired eyes opened, sliding up the offered hand slowly, clashing against happy blues with a small concerned smile lining her petite face.

 

Felicity Smoak really had a knack for sudden appearances.

 

“You look a little green around the gills,” she teased, bouncing the hand with the medicine out towards him again, waiting patiently while he reached out, and taking the offering without a word.

 

It was pointless to put up any kind of fight. And really, Oliver didn’t want to fight with the woman, contrary to his behavior pattern around her.

 

“Do you always make so many sea puns?” Oliver asked, taking the offered water and unscrewing the cap.

 

Felicity laughed lightly, sitting down across from him without asking, propping her head against a fist and cocking her head to the side, a wide smile blooming across her face. “Yeah, buoy, you better believe it.”

 

Oliver shook his head, a small chuckle cracking through his throat.

 

“Never one to disappoint.” He muttered, feeling awkward for reasons he couldn’t explain, unused to feeling such a way around people.

 

Normally it was very easy for him to read a person, and he frequently used that talent to charm and manipulate them to do as he needed. Felicity managed to effortlessly put him off kilter, always leaving him floundering for the right words.

 

All of which he’d failed to do so far.

 

And still, she sought him out.

 

Oliver didn't know if she did because of Diggle or something else, and if he were being honest with himself he didn’t really want to know the answer.

 

He didn’t know which he’d prefer.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping your crew or something?” Oliver asked with an arched brow.

 

Felicity pursed her lips, her eyes watching him carefully, and Oliver wondered if he misspoke.

 

Again.

 

She shrugged a shoulder, unfazed. “My men are more than capable of doing their job. They don’t need me to micromanage them.”

 

Oliver scoffed, oddly pleased by her response and slightly miffed. He leaned his body back, opening his much larger frame up and rested his arms across the backs of the smaller seats beside him, forearms dangling comfortably. With a hand gesturing back to himself,“do I look like I need micromanaging?” He couldn’t help but ask tauntingly.

 

He watched as Felicity smirked, her gaze burning a path down his tanned chest, roving with an arched brow back to his face, and Oliver could feel a different sort of tightening forming in his stomach. He swallowed carefully, keeping the casual smirk on his face.

 

He wondered what she thought with that gaze, what she thought of him.

 

They might have started off on the wrong foot, but Oliver would have to be a blind fool not to notice the beautiful woman that took command with an effortless air.

 

“No, Oliver. You do not look like you need to be micromanaged.”

 

He wanted to peel that sentence back further, see how far it went, but couldn't bring himself to go there.

 

His former self would have seized on the moment and used it to his every advantage, but Oliver wasn’t that person anymore, and he didn't know if he ever would be again.

 

He couldn't be fixed, and he wouldn't entertain anything with Felicity other than a friendship. He couldn't let her think that there was any hope for him. Felicity deserved something better; _someone_ better.

 

This vibrant woman should never touch such a tormented darkness, it could only taint her.

 

Oliver would not be responsible for breaking something so beautiful.

 

He shrugged nonchalantly, breaking away from her gaze and slapping another cocky smirk on his face, “I told you I could hold my own.”

 

Felicity cleared her throat, drawing her body upright and tight, with a simple smile on her face. “Yes, and you are. Thank you. Barry tells me you’re great help,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, arching a delicate brow, “right after telling me how tyrannical of a boss I am, his words went more along the lines of: ‘you should hire more people like Oliver, and not work me to the bone Felicity’.”

 

Oliver scoffed again, thinking of the wisp of a man that stumbled over more than he should considering he was a professional sailor. Sea legs, Barry might have sure, but he also had a clumsy streak in him that had shocked Oliver.

 

“I don’t know how he even managed without help for this long.”

 

Felicity laughed, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes, “Yes, there have been more than a few mishaps.”

 

Oliver could only imagine.

 

A sudden lurch jolted the ship and had Oliver reacting quicker than he intended, his previously lax pose tightening, hands grasping the side of the mounted table in a white knuckled grip.

 

Over the pounding in his ears he could hear a startled, “Holy Frack!” from the woman in front of him, but Oliver could do nothing more than grasp the table, waiting for the ship to settle back into a lulling rock.

 

His heart was racing erratically, screams from the past rang in his mind, his father’s voice, his sister’s desperate calls, and metal crunching against metal—

 

“Oliver?”

 

Oliver jolted to a standing position, the slim fingers around his wrist bringing him back to reality, his wide eyes staring down into her concerned face.

 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry about that, the tide must have shifted, we’re going to be okay, it was just a swell that hit us wrong.” She gently placated, his focus honing onto her face, watching as concern filtered through her eyes.

 

He didn’t know why she would apologize, he was the one acting like a child because of some heavy seas, scared by something so stupid to such experienced sailors.

 

Oliver cleared his throat, trying to make it work, wishing his body would listen to him for a change.

 

‘ _The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink.’_

 

Oliver closed his eyes, taking a calming breath, centering his being, practicing the meditation techniques Diggle had taught him almost a year ago now. 

 

“I’m fine,” he bit out, his voice gravely, betraying the inner turmoil.

Before Felicity could probe him further a screeching alarm sounded, one Oliver had never heard before, an even burst of three pings that could be heard echoing through the whole ship.

 

The alarm was jolting, but meant nothing to Oliver, while the change in Felicity was instantaneous.

 

Her hand snapped away from his, eyes wildly darted to the side of the room where a phone was located, and in a flash she was moving, her swift action making a creeping dread ebb into Oliver’s bones.

 

She picked the phone up and dialed a few numbers quickly. The continuous ringing throughout the room muted Felicity’s words to him. Her finger plugged into her ear as she spoke briskly to whoever was on the other line.

 

A clear voice sounded through the speakers, giving him the first glimpse of the situation..

 

“ _Man overboard, man overboard. Starboard side, in sight. All hands report to stations. Man overboard, man overboard. Starboard side, in sight. All hands report to stations.”_

 

Oliver felt his stomach twist with each word, his breath stuttering in his chest, a palpable fear cackling in his ears. He stood immobilized, eyes wide in Felicity’s direction.

 

Where Oliver was a frozen statue, Felicity was a whirlwind of action. She hung the phone up quickly, dashing towards the entrance of the galley. Oliver could feel his eyes widening, helplessness rose in his mind, fear paralyzing him while adrenaline urged him forward. He needed to do something, needed some type of direction. His desperation making launched a small tremor start in his hands.

 

“Felicity!” He called, not knowing what he wanted to say or was trying to ask.

 

Felicity turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes firm, the measured control evident in her gaze. “Stay here!” She demanded, turning back towards her exit and leaving without so much as waiting to see what he would say.

 

Oliver could sense the darkness creeping in from the corners of his mind, flashes of memory playing in a mocking repeat.

 

A cold sweat was forming on his brow, his eyes darting around the metal box of a cafeteria that was empty, the bellowing alarm still ringing around his body and burning his ears.

 

It was coming to life.

 

Everything he feared would happen was actually happening.

 

His nightmare was coming to life.

 

This is how it started. The ocean picking people off one by one like flies in a trap. It was sure to come for him eventually.

 

The sea had not forgotten its promise to him that cold night, had not forgotten his escape from its sinister clutches. It was angry at him for daring to tread these waters again.

 

The ultimate temptation of fate.

 

He should have never done this!

 

_‘The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink.’_

 

Oliver clenched his eyes tightly shut, slamming an angry fist against the metal table, the reverberating echo drowned out by the consistent wailing of the alarm.

 

The alarm felt more like the beginning to his end.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he growled, fists balled, knuckles white, breath puffing from his chest in a ragged staccato.

 

He couldn’t just sit here. He couldn’t be an invalid, hiding below deck like the dead weight he was, like the coward he felt like.

He was better than this.

 

He didn’t want to, but Oliver needed to know what was happening above deck. He needed to see this through. Whatever the outcome might be, whatever dangers awaited. He would not let himself stow away, hiding from the fears in life.

 

One way or another he would leave this place, and he would leave it with no regrets.

 

“Shit!” Oliver yelled again, slamming his fists angrily against the table again with the words. He spun on his heals without giving himself the option of weighing his decision and headed towards the top deck.

 

He flew through the stairwells, rushing in the same direction a few others were going, to see the gathering crowd that had formed around the side of the vessel. It was amazing to watch, the crew working in synchrony, some grabbing ropes, others grabbing wires. Life vests were piled into a heap, a circular floaty laying on top.

 

Oliver watched as someone dropped a metal ladder down the side of the hull, the chains and bars clanking loudly against the ship as it fell open to the ocean below. He scanned the water furiously, seeing nothing, not a head bobbing or body, and darted fervent eyes across the personnel moving around like a finely tuned machine. His eyes stopped on the only two figures not moving, Felicity and another man beside her, his arm extended in the direction her binoculars pointed.

 

Felicity’s face looked grim, her mouth pulled into a tight line, her mouth saying something Oliver couldn't hear from this distance.

 

The waves crashed over the side of the hull, gentler than they were an hour ago, but still a treacherous tide.

 

There was no way someone could survive out there. There was no possible way.

 

Felicity finally nodded to the man beside her, handing him the binoculars which he took quickly, placing them over his own eyes, taking the same post she’d just occupied.

 

Oliver stood plastered to the bulkhead, wanting to be out of the way yet needing to see the play of events.

 

Felicity began to shout over the winds, her voice muted from his distance to her, but the words causing a flurry of action.

 

Someone stepped forward, grabbing the neon inner-tube and hurling it like a frisbee into the water. It fluttered against the wind, landing somewhere Oliver couldn't see, but by the expression on Felicity’s face it wasn't far enough.

 

She walked over to a group of men strapping and knotting ties, a small motor vessel wound in ropes with nautical precision being hastily prepped.

“Lower the ropes!” He could hear crew yelling, a system of hands and movements lowing the small dinky boat loaded with life vests hastily lowered over the side.

 

“Felicity!” Oliver yelled moving his legs and surging forward to grab her arm.

 

She yanked her arm away quickly, looking back at him with a wild calculating eyes, her face firm in her determination.

 

“What are you doing here? You need to get out of the way!”

 

“You can’t go down there!”

“Oliver I don't have time! This is an emergency situation!”

 

“Send someone else! You can’t go out there!” He shouted over the chaos, desperate to stop her descent into madness.

 

“I don’t have time to argue with you about this! Someone get him out of here!” She yelled, not even fighting with him, the swift demand shocking him back a step, his heart lurching as she and one crew member climbed down the side ladder and jumped into the emergency boat.

 

Oliver couldn't believe this was happening. Nothing good could come of her putting her own life in danger.

 

Around him shouts and instructions were being yelled, the small boat revving below them, peeling away from the safety of the ship without hesitation, the small wake their only beacon.

 

Oliver could only watch with baited breath. The smaller vessel seemingly struggled through the rough tides, its path cutting through swells unevenly, the jagged wake testimony to the strain on the craft.

 

It slowed suddenly, Felicity and the other rescuer reaching over, pulling at a body Oliver could now see, the person easily overlooked from his distance.

 

The scene was unfolding in slow motion to Oliver, his eyes turned towards a rogue wave the same time as the others on deck.

 

Gasps and nervous chatter erupted, Oliver’s breath stuttered in his chest.

 

He watched in horror, as another rogue swell pushed against the rescue boat, the force just enough to tip its plateauing form, the whitecap of waves pushing over the hull violently. The boat battered back, the flinging motion tipping it precariously. Oliver watched as Felicity and her partner lost their bearings, tumbling over the side of the boat as it violently tilted, disappearing into the angry current.

 

Fingers clasped at the railing, white knuckles clenched hard, body frozen in disbelief.

 

 _‘Felicity!_ ’

 

* * *

 


	4. Crash after the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has some thinking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIngall is the most awesome of all awesomest--go check her work out! If it weren't for her this would read like a mess. 
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think!

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter 4: Crash after the Fall 

 

* * *

 

 

‘ _Felicity._ ’

 

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, scrambling to get closer, his hands gliding desperately across the railing.

 

He darted eyes wildly around the standing crew, watching as they stared out, paying rapt attention to the action happening beyond their reach, frames tense, but otherwise unfazed by the radical capsize of their rescue crew.

 

 _“Oliver!’_ His dad’s voice screamed in his head. ‘ _Ollie! What’s happening?!_ ’ His baby sister looking up at him with terrified eyes. ‘ _I’m scared Ollie!’_

 

He clenched his eyes tightly, the cold dread in his stomach making him want to hurl over the side of the ship.

 

‘ _Thea!’_

 

Oliver dropped to his knees, fingers clutching the railing for life, breath escaping in ragged pants.

 

They were dead.

 

He couldn't save them.

 

He couldn't save anyone.

 

He didn't know why he was even still alive.

 

Loud hollering had Oliver looking up and over, watching as a line of people began pulling on a rope he hadn't noticed, their arms straining, faces pulled with the effort. A moment later the top of a florescent life vest was visible, limp arms dangling, and a familiar face lulling back and forth.

 

Oliver could feel the bile crawling higher, recognizing who was being pulled from the water.

 

Barry.

 

‘ _No, no no._ ’

 

This was his fault.

 

Everyone who had come in contact with him, everyone who would form a kinship with him, would be killed. He was cursed.

 

He never should have step foot on this ship.

 

The men continued to pull the limp body over, hands rushing to grab shoulders, dragging him further from the edge and away from the side of the boat. A second later another man pulled himself over the edge, Oliver recognizing the crewman from the rescue boat.

 

The crew mate with the binoculars rushed over, dropping over Barry’s prone form, tilting his head back and instructing another to take the life vest off. When the last clasp was set free he swiftly began mouth to mouth.

 

But Felicity was still out there, and her one watch man had just abandoned his post.

 

“Felic—” Before Oliver could even get the words out two small hands grabbed at the railing, the soaked body of the little coxswain appearing a moment later. Multiple hands reached over, rushing to help her pull over the side of the ledge, her eyes immediately landing on Barry once her feet were on deck, and she rushed over without pause to help the unconscious man.

 

The overwhelming relief at seeing her, watching as she moved around, watching as Barry began sputtering, water spewing from his mouth, made Oliver’s bones quake. Becoming acutely aware of the others on the deck, Oliver felt a sudden tailspin of emotions. He felt raw, over exposed.

 

Oliver stood on shaky legs, walking backwards, away from the scene happening and creeping towards the bulkheads doorway. He slipped inside quietly, pressing his body against the wall.

 

His breathing was jagged, heart slamming against his ribcage, echoing in his ears. Flashes of his past and twisted images of what could have been swirling through his raging mind.

 

Voices grew louder beyond the entrance a second before Barry was ushered past, accompanied by a group of crew members, each talking a mile a minute, assessing the man who was brought back from certain death.

 

Oliver gulped his emotions down, watching their backs as they disappeared down the hall, leading Barry assuredly towards the infirmary.

 

Familiar blonde hair entered his vision, her body soaked, back turned towards his hidden form.

 

Oliver reached out faster than he intended, grabbing the woman quickly, her shocked gasp the only sound she made before he was in her face, anger surging to the forefront.

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

“Oliver?” She asked breathlessly, her brows pinched in confusion, “What are you doing out here?”

 

Oliver ignored her question, hard eyes baring down on her, “Are you insane?! Why would you jump into the water like that! You’re the captain of this ship!”

 

Confusion quickly morphed into anger, her own defiance lighting up to meet his.

 

“That’s exactly why I did it! _I’m_ the captain! My crew depends on me, I would have done it for anyone!”

 

“Well don’t!” The raging yell had her taking a step back in shock, yanking her arm from his grasp for the second time. Her face was contorted in a way that had his head screaming at him to stop, to calm down. But Oliver was too far gone.

 

“You’re being unreasonable Oliver.”

 

“I’m not the one who threw herself off the side of a ship! You could have died!”

 

Therein lied the problem, the sickening truth. She could have died.

 

Oliver could have watched not one, but three people die today. Two people he was already attached to in ways he didn’t anticipate, an affinity developing that was unexpected.

 

Two people added to the endless lists of names the ocean would take from him.

 

“So I should have let Barry die!” She retorted hotly, fists balled angrily at her sides.

  
“You could have sent someone else into the water Felicity! Anyone else!”

 

She stared at him with an unnerving silence, a calculating edge in her deep blues.

 

“What kind of leader do you want to be Oliver?”

 

Without giving any pause she added, “I’ll tell you the type I want to be. I want to be one that earns respect. One that has the full commitment of everyone behind me. I want to be a leader that no one doubts. That everyone knows would jump in the water after them. That’s the kind of leader I want to be. That’s the legacy I would rather leave behind. What legacy are you leaving behind?”

 

Oliver was stunned to silence, mouth slightly agape. The passion of her statement, the meaning of her words, struck a nail deep to his soul.

 

She was breathing heavily, her eyes blazing, facing him head on.

 

There was no doubt in Oliver’s mind that Felicity had the respect of every man and woman on this ship.

 

Oliver could hear his own inner monologue mocking him, taunting him, showing him a greatness he would never be. A greatness he could never attain.

 

Felicity didn't know how admirable she was in this moment, and Oliver wasn't in a frame of mind to acknowledge it.

 

Acknowledge the greatness she carried herself with. How foolishly wonderful she was, where he could never be.

 

Felicity looked away, her shoulders drawn tight, and mouth firm.

 

“You should go. It’s been a long day and I need to check on Barry.”

 

Oliver stared at the side of her turned face intensely, but no words came forward.

 

There was nothing he _could_ say.

 

Without another thought, he turned away, heading somewhere—anywhere—that he could re-group. The honest words Felicity spoke chasing him through his turmoil, the hole in his heart bleeding.

 

The question in his mind burning.

 

What kind of legacy _was_ he leaving behind?

 

* * *

 

Oliver frowned, brooding silently in his bunk, rolling onto his side, head resting on the bent arm he couldn't extend fully. The small space and his restless thoughts keeping him awake long into the night.

 

The ship had stilled. Felicity having paused the excursion in the settled tide. The eerie calm such a contrast from the earlier events.

 

The proverbial crash after a fall. 

 

Oliver was at least glad for the stillness, but could not make his mind rest. His thoughts circling in a whirlwind, Felicity’s last words to him burning in his mind on repeat.

 

‘ _What legacy are you leaving behind?_ ’

 

What legacy _was_ he leaving behind? Queen Consolidated was Robert Queen’s brain child, brought from nothing and left to Oliver in his will. His mother was currently in full possession until Oliver learned the ropes. He’d always been in and out of the inner workings of QC. He had never had much of an interest in business, had never taken anything his father said too seriously, had never taken anything his Father had tried to teach him to heart. He never considered the value of anyone beyond the fortified walls of the master suite, of the people just below his feet. 

 

Years of pleading from his Mother and Father for him to take their teachings serious had landed on deaf ears, Oliver preferring company of the finer sex over reviewing the retention rate of employees and board members.

 

The whole reason Robert had taken Oliver and Thea on that fated get away was to stoke Oliver’s love for the company. To encourage a leadership role in is son, to prepare him for the duties that would one day be entrusted to him.

 

To carry on Robert Queen’s legacy.

 

But where did that leave Oliver?

 

With an unoccupied bunk, the room was quieter than it should have been, the silence a loud beacon to the absent man who’d almost lost his life today.

 

Had it not been for the quick response of the diminutive captain, who knows what the aftermath might have looked like.

 

Oliver couldn’t sleep, and he definitely couldn't stay be cooped up in this quiet room anymore.

 

He stood carefully, joints and bones protesting at the cramped position, his steps leading him to the same spot he’d been frozen to earlier.

 

Everything was different now.

 

The winds were dead, their howling fight completely exhausted. The water glimmering like a crystal mirror, reflecting speckles of stars brighter than he’d ever seen. The image made a beautiful picture Oliver could never imagine after such a rage. The boat was still in the silent air, the moon illuminating the deck in a soft blue hue.

 

It was such a wild contradiction, but one that Oliver welcomed.

 

He walked carefully along the bulkhead, his steps slowing at the hunched figure slug over the railing.

 

Felicity, dangling across the bars with such an abandoned ease. Oliver could feel a small pang of envy watching her, wishing he could feel the same. That he could be the same.

 

She didn't know how remarkable she was, and Oliver could feel his desolate heart aching to be in her presence.

 

As if she could hear him her head tilted to the side, eyes finding his in the darkened night.

 

Neither said anything.

 

Oliver watched her carefully, continuing at the dip of her chin. He slid behind her against the wall, unwilling to sit so close to the edge, but wanting to be near.

 

Close enough to see, far enough to not touch.

 

A precarious balance he was trying to carefully maintain. His willpower too weak to stay away, but too stubborn to get close.

 

She didn't question his seating choice, her gaze shifting forward to again stare out into the quiet open ocean.

 

“It was a crazy day today,” she spoke softly, her tone giving nothing but her exhaustion away.

 

The moon cast a soft glow around her body, blonde hair pulled into a familiar style. Unfamiliar frames sat perched on her nose, a fresh shirt and small spandex swim shorts hugging her small frame.

 

She really was a beautiful woman.

 

Oliver stared at the back of her head, watching as she shifted to turn towards him, putting her back against the railing. He met her eyes as she sighed heavily, the weight of the day echoed in her frame.

 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” She muttered, looking away sightlessly towards the stern of the ship, her mouth set in a small line.

 

Oliver shook his head, unwilling to let her apologize to him again.

 

“You don't have to apologize. I should have listened to you.”

 

“I still shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

 

Oliver stared at the woman in front of him, cocking his head to the side. “Well, the same can be said about me, so we’ll call it even.”

 

Her bright blue eyes pierced into him for a second longer than comfortable before she nodded her head slowly.

 

“How’s Barry?” Oliver asked, his throat tightening at the reminder.

 

Felicity smiled softly, like she had just discovered something, “He’ll be fine, just resting in the infirmary. Iris will probably keep him there tomorrow, she dotes on him, but I don't think he’ll mind too much.”

 

Oliver nodded, vaguely remembered the girl from the first day, a fellow researcher and part time medic.

 

“You looked like you were about to jump into that water today.” Felicity teased, her voice light.

 

Oliver scoffed, looking down at his lax hands, thinking back to the moment he watched her tipping into the water, remembering how quickly he’d surged to the side of the ship.

 

“No, I don’t think I was.”

 

“I don't know about that, you seemed pretty ready.” The teasing tone woke a side of Oliver’s personality, a side he’d thought was gone, and an airy playfulness lifted the corners of his lips.

 

“Maybe I’ll just fall in one day so you can save me.”

 

Felicity smiled, her eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky. “I’d save you.”

 

The words formed a lump in Oliver’s throat, the rushing heat forcing his eyes from her own.

 

“Don’t waste your breath trying to save a drowning man.” He tried to play back, the seriousness in his statement taking on an ominous edge.

 

“Good thing I know CPR,” she chortled back dismissively.

 

Oliver shook his head with a smile, “Felicity Smoak, you are either wildly adventurous or ridiculously foolish.”

 

Oliver didn't know which one he liked better, both sides making his body buzz to be around her, just to see what Felicity would do next.

 

“Maybe I can make you the adventurous type one day. Who knows, I might even get you to jump off the ship.”

 

He doubted that.

 

“I’m sure I’ll want to jump off this ship sooner or later.”

  
  
Felicity laughed, her cheeks warming with the beautiful smile that split her lips.

 

“You can always jump with me, I’m a strong swimmer, and _do_ know CPR, so nothing bad can happen when you’re with me.” She breezily told him, the confidence in her ability fortified.

 

Oliver watched her from where he sat, her words settling deep into his chest. Felicity might be able to save him, but there wasn't much left worth saving, and he would never drag her down with him.

 

The longer Oliver watched her, the longer he looked at her, the more he recognized how enigmatic she was. How she found her way out on these isolated waters, cut off from the civilized world with only a select crew in her company, Oliver didn’t know.

 

She had to have a home, people who loved her. John was a great example. People like Felicity didn’t come around often, Oliver had never met someone like her. He could also recognize how special that was. How carefully someone would have to hold onto her, with compassion and understanding, a gentle hand and soft heart.

 

None of which Oliver had.

 

He sighed silently, trying to keep the smile on his face and feeling himself faltering, the cackling demons rearing their heads up, reminding him who he was, what he wasn't, and how he never would be.

 

The rising moon called to the late hour, and Oliver was feeling a weariness settle in his bones, his mind racing and reminding him of things past and present he could never attain.

 

“It’s getting late, can I walk you to your room?” He asked, half expecting her to decline, half wishing she would.

 

A dusty rose painted Felicity’s cheeks, bottom lip catching between white teeth, “Sure,” she mutter shyly, raising to her feet with ease.

 

Their walk was a slow one, her room just was just a few turns from the hatch, and as much as Oliver knew he couldn't entertain anything with the infectious blonde, he still couldn't help taking the sneaking glimpses, and savoring the feeling of the soft brush of her arm against his between every few steps.

 

She was like electricity, every brush and pause bringing a hyper sense of awareness to Oliver like nothing had before.

 

“Well, this is me.” she gestured once they arrived at her door, keeping her eyes on the wall.

 

“Felicity, thank you. For talking to me.”

 

“Anytime Oliver.”

 

She turned to enter the cabin.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver questioned softly, his hand reaching out before he could stop it to gently grasp at her wrist.

 

The gesture was small but the affect was instant. Oliver’s entire focus honed in on the warmth of her skin, her tiny wrist dwarfed in his hand, her skin softer than he’d expect from someone who was outside more often than not. To grasp it now so gently, in such a contrast to the harsh treatment earlier, brought a deep awareness of her femininity to his mind.

 

His heart jumped in his chest, the sudden pounding making his skin itch.

 

The innocent request he’d thought of in passing died in his throat.

 

Felicity’s smile tilted in question, her attention unwavering from him, waiting to hear what he had to say, seeming so much more at ease with the simple gesture than he felt.

 

It made Oliver nervous.

 

He wasn’t ready to examine the feelings rushing through his blood, especially now.

 

He shuffled back a step, releasing her wrist as quickly as he’d grasped it. The tingling in his fingertips pushed away with a clench of his hand. His fingers closed into a tight fist, a thumb rubbing along the side of his pointer, eyes slanting away from her inquisitive blues.

 

Oliver was learning quickly that he couldn't look her in the eye. She had a way of making him want more, and there was nothing more Oliver could take or give her. Felicity was an enigmatic spark that he found himself draw to in uncomfortable ways.

 

“Uh, I think you make a good captain.” He muttered finally, his eyes sliding over quick enough to see the brief flash of disappointment before it was smoothed over with a professional smile,

 

“Thank you Oliver.”

 

Oliver took another step back, unable to resist looking up at her one last time from a tilted head.

 

“Goodnight Felicity.” he muttered.

 

Her eyes bored into him, heavy with words unsaid, and for a second Oliver was sure she was going to stop him, but instead she tilted her head, her hand cradling the side of the door.

 

“Goodnight Oliver.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see y'all next week~!


	5. Storms Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has some pleasant conversations with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta LIngall is as always amazing and helps to make this possible. Check her work out! She has a collection of fabulous stories. Drop a line and let me know what you think so far! I love hearing from everyone :)

* * *

 

**Chapter 5: Storms Brewing**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Oliver pushed the eggs around his plate in a thoughtless pattern. The food had long gone cold, his mind far from his body, unwanted memories and musings plaguing him.

 

The room he shared with Barry had been quiet the previous night, the recovering man confined to the infirmary for observation. Felicity had assured him Barry was fine, but the shadows that night had stretched to fill the small space, choking his mind in turmoil.

 

Oliver was alone, isolated with only the companionship of his nightmares. Bodies of friends were added to the morbid list of the dead. Screams of horror and chaos had chased him awake.

 

After a grand total of two hours of broken sleep Oliver couldn’t take it anymore. With an unwillingness to see the night stars, or listen to the endless quiet above deck, he turned to a more physical punishment. Sweating and straining his body to the breaking point with simple push-ups, pull-ups and everything in between that could be practiced in the room, anything to quiet his thoughts.

 

To keep the nightmares at bay.

 

By around six he finally decided to drag himself to the galley, figuring coffee, and maybe some food could re-center his mind for a new day.

 

The had coffee tasted like dirt in his mouth and the eggs felt like lead on his fork, his hand unable to bring them to his mouth. The unappetizing mush now waisted on his plate.

 

Eating was pointless, just as everything else he was attempting to do.

 

He was beginning to doubt the outcome to all his efforts.

 

Oliver would leave this trip the same as he’d come, a miserable sod, with an added dash of contemptuous disappointment.

 

It was probably time to accept that this was who he was, who he was meant to be.

 

The clattering of a tray drew Oliver’s self-loathing back to the present, his eyes lifting to a face he didn’t expect to see.

 

“Barry?”

 

The smaller man smiled sheepishly, sliding into the seat in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Barry smiled weakly, wagging a brow at Oliver. “Heh, hey man. Enjoy an empty room last night?”

 

His attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. Oliver looked down at his plate, the food flattened like his mood.

 

No. No, he had not enjoyed anything about last night.

 

A wisp of blue eyes and soft smile filtered through his thoughts.

 

‘ _You enjoyed something,_ ’ his mind taunted.

 

Oliver clenched his jaw, putting his fork beside his uneaten plate and looked back up to the bashful man in front of him.

 

“How are you feeling?” He asked for both the distraction and conversation.

 

“Oh, much better now. Really, I’m fine. Just missed my step with that last wave.” Barry attempted to play down his near brush with death, stabbing his own food and shoveling it into his mouth, “I’ll tell you what though, an experience like that makes a man famished. Well, any person really, it doesn't have to be a man.”

 

Oliver shook his head with an arched brow.

 

He begged to differ, but that was a moot point. Oliver was just glad to see the younger male up and perkier than ever.

 

“What happened to those sea legs of yours?” Oliver jested with a slight smirk.

 

Barry just shrugged with a comical smile of his own, “I just had to take them for a dip in the water again. Everything is recharged and ready for action.” The boast was accompanied by an exaggerated scoop of his breakfast, obnoxiously plopping the morsel in his mouth.

 

Oliver stared at the man, head tilting in question, “Oh? That recharge didn’t have anything to do with that medic?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking away thoughtfully, ignoring the choking cough from Barry. “What was her name again? Lilly?”

 

Barry cleared his throat loudly, a hot stain flushing his cheeks.

 

Oliver didn't know a grown man could blush like that.

 

“Her name is Iris, and she’s just a friend.” Barry defended quickly, shifting uncomfortably from the look Oliver leveled his way, the hue of his face giving him away.

 

Oliver shook his head with a smirk, staring back down at his own food. He wouldn't push the man more than that, it wasn't his place and Oliver didn't want to open the conversation up to his own love life.

 

Or lack thereof.

 

Felicity’s face popped into his mind again and Oliver could feel his breath hitch. It was dangerous to imagine anything more than he already had, which wasn't much, but allowing that door open could potentially result in him not being able to close it again.

 

As if his thoughts alone could beckon her one tired looking Felicity came into the galley, her walk taking her straight to the coffee machine.

 

She looked as exhausted as Oliver felt, and for a brief moment he wondered if she had as much trouble sleeping as he had.

 

He wondered if he’d gone above deck would he have ran into her. Could they’ve shared another moment in peace? 

 

Oliver immediately shook the absurd thought away.

 

He didn’t know why he felt this pull towards Felicity, what made his eyes wander towards her when she was around, what made his mind play fantasy games with him.

 

He needed to get it under control and he needed to do so now.

 

Felicity’s eyes scanned the galley, her coffee cradled between her hands, aimlessly taking in faces and smiling at other crew members until they landed on him.

 

The second his gaze locked with hers Oliver felt his heart jump.

 

‘ _That’s not getting over it._ ’ His mind taunted. He fought the swelling excitement in his chest as she smiled softly, her eyes glancing briefly to Barry before her brow furrowed with a different type of emotion.

 

She pushed her hip off the coffee bar, walking with a determined stride and hard eyes towards the duo.

 

Oliver glanced over to see Barry recognize the captain watching him sit up straighter, a nervous smile breaking out across his face.

 

“Oh, hey Felicity, good morning!” Barry sputtered quickly, staring up at the glowering woman.

 

“Barry Allen are you supposed to be out of the infirmary?” Felicity demanded, ignoring the pleasantries Barry tried to placate her with.

 

“I may or may not have snuck out this morning.” He admitted slowly, a sheepish smile lining his face.

 

“Barry! You need to take it easy and make sure you’re feeling alright! We can’t have another accident like that.” Felicity reprimanded, her brows furrowed, lips drawn in a tight line.

 

Barry, for his part, had the decency to look contrite.

 

“Felicity, really I’m fine. I can’t be holed up in the infirmary, and besides who else can get the specs configured for the survey like I can?” He rushed to justify, throwing Felicity eyes that Thea would have called ‘puppy dog’ back in the day.

 

“You know _I_ can Barry.” Felicity shot back quickly, throwing his excuse to the wind.

 

“Felicity I can’t make you do that, you’re already doing so much.”

 

Oliver was surprised to learn that Felicity knew her way around such intricate technology. It was hieroglyphics as far as Oliver was concerned, he couldn't begin to understand. Every interaction with her peeled back another layer of awe, her hidden talents were never ending.

 

“One wrong move Barry Allen and you’re going to be locked in your quarters.” Felicity threatened, the malice missing behind the words, her fight clearly leaving.

 

Barry held his hands up, “Scouts honor, I’ll pace myself and be extra careful.”

 

Felicity leveled another look at him before shifting her eyes to Oliver. Their eyes met in a thrilling lock, Oliver could feel a shot to the nerves, his mind ever conscious of his audience. He carefully kept a neutral look on his face, watching raptly as a small smile began creeping on her lips.

 

“Morning Oliver.”

 

“Felicity.”

 

She bit her lip, eyes darting from his and towards the entrance.

 

“Well, you guys behave, I have some work I need to tend to. I’ll see you around.” She muttered, waving and turning on her heel.

 

Barry called a quick “Bye Felicity!” after her while Oliver could only watch her retreat, his gaze never leaving her form until she turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

 

Oliver sighed, turning back towards Barry who had a cheshire grin slapped across his face.

 

“What?” Oliver demanded, his defenses rearing up. The way Barry was looking at him couldn't mean anything good.

 

“Aren’t you just smitten with Smoak.”

 

“Shut it Barry, you don't know what you’re talking about.” Oliver growled. He wasn't going to sit here and entertain this conversation like a bunch of high schoolers gossiping. This was exactly the type of banter he was actively trying to avoid.

 

Oliver gathered his tray, raising from his seat and continued ignoring the antagonizing smile Barry was shooting him.

 

“That atmosphere between you two would argue otherwise. I bet if you asked her to dinner she’d say yes.” Barry plowed on as if Oliver had asked for his advice.

 

“Have a good day Barry, try not to get too wet.” Oliver told him, turning and walking from the cackling man behind him.

 

He wondered if Barry would be laughing as hard as he was now if he knew how close Oliver had come to asking Felicity just that last night.

 

“Ask her!” Barry yelled to his retreating back. Oliver shook his head, flipping him the bird over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Oliver pulled his body back, hands on his hips, shoulders rolling upwards towards the clear sky.

 

The day was stretching far into the afternoon, the bright sun combined with the cool breeze helped him concentrate on his mundane tasks and quieted his thoughts.

 

He expected to be chased by his nightmares, but, no thanks to Barry, he instead found himself chased by fantasies that would never come to fruition.

 

“Frack, frack, _frack_.”

 

The muttered curse had Oliver pausing, with said center of his fantasies cursing somewhere behind him.

 

He turned slowly, raising an amused brow at the petite blonde, her body stretched as high as she could go, finger tips straining to reach a swaying cord spooled on a ridiculously high spindle.

 

Her tablet was clutched to her chest, the elongated stretch of her posture highlighting her sculpted calves, smoothing into the supple dip of her backside and arching along the flawless planes of her back.

 

How Felicity Smoak could make such a pose look so attractive was just another mystery in itself.

 

He walked over to help before even realizing what he was doing, lifting his hand easily and clutching the cord over her head, the action bringing him a hair’s breadth from her body.

 

She spun in surprise, her cheeks heating at their eyes connected, her free hand hovering in mid-air between them. Oliver didn’t know how her palm wasn’t touching his bare chest, but he swore he could feel his skin hum in anticipation from their proximity.

 

Felicity cleared her throat, biting her lip and pulling her hand back quickly, tucking a stray strand of hair that had fallen from her tight pony behind her ear.

 

“You looked like you needed a hand,” Oliver teased, pulling the cord down further and holding it out towards her.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered, reaching out to pluck the cord from his fingers, their hands brushing for the briefest of moments.

 

Oliver lifted the corner of his lips in a small smile, taking an appropriate step back and resisting the urge to clench his fists against the tingling in his fingertips.

 

“What are you doing up here?” he asked, wondering why she was away from the helm. He honestly didn’t know what Felicity did in the times he didn’t see her around the ship. Oliver had always assumed there were more important things for the captain to do rather than grunt work on deck.

 

Felicity looked down at her tablet, plugging the cord into another wire connected to the device.

 

“We’re setting the survey equipment out today and I’m just doing last minute checks to make sure all the devices are working properly. There’s nothing worse than a technical error after all the physical labor has gone into making this possible.” She explained, never looking up from her tablet.

 

“Sounds riveting.” He dryly commented, pleased by the small smile and peek she shot him in return.

 

“It’s all about the big picture. Not all jobs are fun all the time.”

 

She unplugged the cord, walking a couple feet and crouching down to plug another device in.

 

Oliver followed, keeping a few steps behind, leaning against the bulkhead with his arms and feet crossed casually.

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you have any kind of fun so far. What do you even do out here for fun?” He asked easily, wanting to know what she did in her free time, what made her happy out here.

 

Felicity smiled secretively at the tech in front of her, the grin making Oliver’s interest peak.

 

“Can you hand me that cable?” She asked, avoiding the question and pointing without looking away at the tablet in her hand.

 

Oliver retrieved the equipment, bringing it back and handing her the cord. She plugged it into a small box, switching between mechanics on the ship and her tablet without any break in concentration.

 

Felicity knew her way around this ship like a second skin.

 

“You’re instincts are amazing. You must have spent a lot of time on the water.”

 

“I practically grew up on a boat similar to this, so I’m intimately familiar with the mechanics.”

 

Oliver knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he could feel the curiosity curling with a need to know.

 

“You grew up on a boat?”

 

Felicity laughed, looking over at him through her lashes before she looked back down at her tablet.

 

“I grew up in a house,” she corrected, “but my father was a master sailor who took me with him on many trips. Much to my mother’s chagrin.”

 

Oliver thought back to his own mother, how upset she’d been at him, how terrified. He wondered how she was doing now, if she was okay.

 

If she would be happy for him or bite his head off when he returned home.

 

“I used to have so much fun with my Dad on his cruises. I remember playing up and down the ship. I got into so much trouble.” Felicity continued to tell him, reveling a part of her past.

 

Oliver soaked it in.

 

He imagined a smaller version of the woman before him, ransacking a ship, sneaking into crawlspaces. The innocent beauty of her childhood a heartwarming picture.

 

“I can imagine.” Oliver teased, a smile lining his lips. “Your father must be pretty proud of you, to follow in his footsteps like this.”

 

“I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him in over a decade.” The jarring statement was said without malice, without contempt, just another conversational topic, but Oliver felt a pang in his heart. He knew what the sins of fathers did to their children.

 

“I’m sorry.” He told her, his brow furrowed at the woman who seemed unfazed by the statement, waving him off as if it meant nothing.

 

“Don’t be, he wasn't much of a winner anyways. Cheated on my mom, ran away with his new family, the works.” She said it like it meant nothing, but Oliver knew how deep scars could run, how easy they were to hide from people not looking hard enough.

“Your father was a fool to abandon you,” he told her honestly in the silence. How anyone was able to let someone like Felicity go, no less her father, was beyond him.

 

If Felicity were his, Oliver would never let her go.

 

Felicity shrugged, a smirk tilting her lips, “Well, he liked the beaches so what can I say?”

 

Oliver balked for a moment before a surprised chuckle slipped past his lips, a wide grin slipping onto his face. “You just can’t resist!”

 

“There’s never a bad time for a pun.”

 

“It’s always a bad time for a pun.”

 

“Says you, but you haven't heard any punny enough ones.”

 

Oliver laughed again, the mood effectively switched as if nothing had ever happened.

 

They worked in a comfortable silence, the serenity of the moment lulling Oliver. 

 

“Hey Oliver?” Felicity asked as they were finishing up.

 

He glanced over, catching her gaze and seeing something behind the look. “Felicity.”

 

She bit her lip, looking away from his eyes, a troubled gaze clouding her expression, debating a moment longer with herself.

 

“There’s a storm on the doppler, but its weak so were just going to ride it out.” She told him, darting her eyes back to his face to capture his expression, watching him carefully.

 

The wakening of dread creeped along his neck, his fingertips chilling.

 

‘ _Are you sure this is a good idea Dad?_ ’

 

‘ _It’s just a small storm Oliver, we’ll be completely fine._ ’

 

“Are you going to be okay? I’ll make sure to get you some dramamine.” Felicity asked, resting a soft hand on his forearm.

 

Oliver smiled tightly at her.

 

_The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink._

 

He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly, attempting to center himself, before opening them again, “I’ll be fine.”

 

Felicity stared at him a moment longer as if she didn't believe him.

 

“Well, if you need me, you know how to find me.”

 

“Thanks Felicity, but like I said, I’ll be fine. I’m not a child who’s afraid of storms.” The words felt like lead, but the lie came easily.

 

“It’s okay to be afraid of things, but it’s also okay to not go through it alone.”

 

She saw through him so easily, but he couldn’t find the words to reply, silently staring at her, eyes tracing the concerned tilt of her face.

 

“I can always crawl into bed with Barry.”

 

Felicity scoffed, laughing lightly at the image he painted. “Barry will probably crawl into bed with Iris.”

 

Oliver arched a brow, “What is this? The Love Boat? Should I come crawl into bed with you?” He couldn’t stop the words as they came tumbling out. It felt as if he’d stuffed cotton into his mouth, his throat drying out uncomfortably.

 

Oliver tried to clear his throat, looking away at the stunned amusement on Felicity’s face.

 

“Uh, that’s not what I…” Oliver trailed off, feeling a hot warmth creep up his neck, his ears burning. No one had ever made him feel this way—he used to be so smooth, so in control. Without even trying Felicity could tilt his world on its axis, making him say and do things he never thought he would.

 

The pealing laughter from the smaller woman had Oliver keeping his eyes on the horizon, refusing to look his embarrassment in the face.

 

“Oh, this is too rich, normally _I’m_ the one who puts my foot in my mouth!”

 

Oliver felt much less amused than Felicity, watching the horizon purposefully, seeing nothing that would indicate any type of storm that was on its way.

 

So was the deceptive streak of Mother Nature.

 

Felicity quieted beside him, and he felt a hand rest against the back of his forearm.

 

He looked down and over to the blue eyes peering up at his face.

 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I promise it’s not a big storm, I’d never risk my crew like that.”

 

Oliver was glad Felicity had so much trust in the sea, but Oliver had learned long ago to always be on edge around the frigid waters.

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

While he wished he would, Oliver knew that he wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

_“Oliver you need to take Thea and get to the life boat now!” Robert shoved him forward, the rolling wave slamming the both of them into the side of the wall with a force that left his body burning in protest.“Go now Oliver!”_

 

_“You’re coming too!” He shouted at his father, righting himself hastily, the teetering floor swaying their bodies threateningly._

 

_“I’ll be right behind you! Go!”_

 

_Screeching of metal being ripped apart like it was paper shook the air._

 

_“Ollie!”_

 

_Dark red water pooled at his feet, his father’s weight heavy in his arms, but he could still save them._

 

_“Thea!”_

 

_He could still save them._

 

_“Daddy!” Thea’s scream was muffled by the howling wind._

 

_“Thea we have to go!”_

 

_“Ollie I’m scared”_

 

_He could still save them._

 

_“Ollie!”_

 

_“Thea! No!”_

 

_Darkness inhaled him in a cold swallow, his body battering against debris. Blood curdling screams flickered in and out of his ears with each dunk of his head._

 

_“Ollie!”_

 

Oliver jolted awake, wild eyes registering the world around him, feeling the swaying roll beneath his bed. Over the ragged inhales he heard a soft rapping on his bunk door drawing his attention to the present.

 

He stood shakily, the sweat on his back making the sleep shirt cling uncomfortably to his overheated flesh.

 

He cracked the door, brows furrowing at the person behind it.

 

“Felicity?”

 

“Come with me,” she whispered, reaching out and tugging the clammy hand he had grasped tightly on the door frame.

 

Oliver swayed with a rocking of the ship. “What are you doing here?” He asked after gathering his breath. The turbulent waves keeping the edge of his nightmare against his mind like a sharp knife.

 

The hand grasping his tightened marginally, her eyes hiding something he wasn’t ready to explore.

 

“Come with me,” she whispered again.

 

He was unable to form a coherent thought, Oliver stared at her, a sour curdling building in his stomach.

 

He had two options. Close the door and retreat back into his room, or follow Felicity and discover where she wanted to take him.

 

Blue eyes peered at him from the darkness of the hallway, and Oliver knew he’d already made his choice.

 

He opened the door further and stepped forward, letting her lead him away from his room.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~To be Continued...


	6. lines in the sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver sets some lines in the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't be possible without my beta LIngall, she's great and writes great stories of her own!

**Chapter 6: Lines in the Sand**

 

* * *

 

 

Where Felicity was taking him could have been anywhere. With his mind muddled and head lowered, Oliver followed blindly, the nightmares chasing on his coattails.

 

The screams of his sister echoed in his mind. The cries of his father rung in his ears.

 

But the hand clasped tightly in his own anchored him to the present, dragging him along like a sliver of light in the dark.

 

If it weren't for those fingers, tugging strongly in his own, he would be lost, falling down the hole he could never fully escape from.

 

A roll of the ship coupled with the unnatural drop of his feet had his stomach churning, his limp grasp banding around the anchor he held onto.

 

From his peripheral Oliver could see Felicity look back at him over her shoulder. He couldn't bring his eyes up to meet hers, the fear that she could see what he could never escape so plainly in his eyes. The torment so close to the surface.

 

He could feel the concern in her gaze, the questions burning on the tip of her tongue. Questions he wasn't ready to answer, concern he wasn't willing to face.

 

She stayed silent though, turning forward with a subtle determination and leading him confidently through the darkened corridor.

 

When they stopped Oliver peeled his eyes up, brows furrowing at the familiar door, a whispered memory skirting on the edge of his mind.

 

Felicity didn't pause at her door this time though. She didn't release his hand either. Without missing a beat she trudged forward, ushering him into her room quickly and shutting the door swiftly behind him.

 

Oliver stood stationary where she left him, staring sightlessly forward, empty hands clenching at his sides.

 

The building tension between his shoulder blades had him standing up straighter, a blink clearing his mind. His head turned to stare down at the small blonde beside him.

 

Her hair was the only distinguishable thing in the dimmed light, the soft curls down from their normal tight pony tail. The darkness creating shadows around her face in contours that hid her expression from him.

 

A lump formed in his throat.

 

“This too shall pass,” she whispered into the quiet room, softly nudging him with her elbow.

 

Where he was expecting pity, he was instead answered in empathy.

 

Oliver couldn't stop the sight tilt of his lips, the unexpected pop culture reference reminding him why he was so enamored with this woman.

 

She defied explanation.

 

Slowly, with a steadying breath, Oliver turned, looking around the room, eyes tracing over shadows that were indistinguishable in the limited light.

“I thought you might need a friend.”

 

The soft voice drew his attention back to the figure that hadn't moved.

 

He could only stare at the small silhouette, his mind wondering why he was here, why she would come for him, how she could read him—know him—so well already. The questions wouldn't leave his lips though. He instead turned his head again, his thoughts clearing up further, the terror ebbing slowly.

 

Felicity gestured forward, taking a small step in front of him and leading him to the only place to sit in the room.

 

It only took Oliver a second to realize that place was her bed, and he breathed deeply at the implication that instantly popped into his mind.

 

Felicity sat on the corner with a flourish and smile, patting the spot beside her without a care in the world.

 

Oliver raised a brow, his lips quirking with amusement in only a way she could conjure.

 

“You’re bed is bigger than mine.”

 

Felicity raised a teasing brow, cocking her head to the side.

 

“Captain gets the Queen.”

 

Oliver knew what she meant, but hearing the euphemism on her lips had his chest swelling unexpectedly. He didn't know if she knew who he really was, what his last name was, what the implications to of her words could mean, but he felt a sudden longing.

 

Oliver wondered if the Queen could get the Captain.

 

The turn of thoughts had him taking a step forward, sitting stiffly beside her, back straight and fists clenched against his knees, staring sightlessly at the door in front of him.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He didn't know how to respond to the softly spoken question. Was he okay? There were fragmented pieces of himself lost to the sea forever. Pieces he’d never get back, pieces that could make him whole again.

 

Could he ever be truly whole again? Would he ever escape the constant tsunami of troubles and night terrors that surfaced far too frequently?

 

“No.” He uttered somberly, shoulders tight with the weight of the admission.

 

There was no follow up question, and for that Oliver was relieved.

 

Instead he was answered in a ruffling of shifting weight, a soft whispering inhale and an even more gentle hand that reached over, sliding across his clenched fists. 

 

Oliver closed his eyes at the sight it made, his psyche protesting at the comfort while his body relished in it, muscles slowly un-bunching beneath her hands.

 

_The best way to overcome your fear is look it in the eye. Stare it down and don’t blink._

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felicity questioned into the silence, the hesitance and soft words furrowing Oliver’s brow.

 

There was no way to describe how blood and water washed together so effortlessly, so easily overpowered and washed away as if it never existed. The feeling of helplessness as you abandoned your father, the desperation to save your baby sister, feeling smaller fingers ripped away from a desperate grasp. The haunting sensation your body went through when water was filling your lungs, the dawning realization that your life was over.

 

Slowly he slipped a hand from beneath hers, grasping the warmer appendage and gently holding it in his larger one. For a moment he could pretend, could almost make himself believe there was something more, that there could be something more. Oliver could never do that to her though. He could never lead Felicity on down a path that had no future.

 

He couldn't deny the way she looked at him, could no longer deny the way he always found himself seeking her out of the crowd. He could also no longer deny what that meant for him, and how that could affect her.

 

With a deep sigh and heavy heart Oliver slowly pulled her hand from his, placing it gently in her own lap holding it still.

 

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the floor and ignoring the softer warmth grasped in his fingers.

 

“I’m sorry Felicity.”

 

Instead of pulling away like Oliver expected, his hand was again engulfed by hers, both of her smaller ones clasping his only remaining connection left to her.

 

“Oliver, you don't have anything to apologize for.”

 

His eyes slanted towards the concerned blues before darting away again, the genuine pull of emotions locking his limbs in place.

 

It always felt like she could see right through him, and Oliver would do anything to shield her from the horrors locked within.

 

“You make me feel things,” he started suddenly, feeling her tug on his hand in response, “things I haven't ever felt.”

 

The air hung quietly between them.

 

“I’m sensing a but,” Felicity broke softly.

 

“But I can’t Felicity. I have nothing to offer you. I’m broken. I’ll probably always be broken. You can’t fix that. I can’t even fix it.”

 

She shifted beside him, bringing her body closer to his.

 

“I’m not trying to fix you Oliver. Everyone needs a friend.”

 

He was shaking his head before she could finish the sentence. “I don't even make a good friend.”

 

“I would disagree.”

 

She didn't understand what he was trying to say, that or she was being willfully ignorant. Oliver had already come this far, his heart ached with every word that spilt from his lips, but the truth rung still.

 

“Felicity you’re different. I don't feel like you’re a friend, and I can’t let myself feel like that. I can’t pull you down.”

 

There was a deeper silence in his words, and though he wasn't looking at her, Oliver could tell she was taking his statement in, listening to what was left unsaid.

 

“Oliver, I’m not asking you for anything. It’s obvious you’re struggling to pick the pieces up, but you don't have to do this alone. You don't have to leave this ship alone, you don't have to face your demons alone. You have so many people who care for you.” She was impassioned, her words firm, unshaken, “I care about you. I know we haven't known each other for long, but you’re not a bad person. You don't bring death, death brings death. You can’t hold that mantle over yourself.”

 

Oliver shook his head. “I’m sorry Felicity.” He knew what he was apologizing for, but doubted she understood. He couldn't give her what she wanted. What she needed. He could never drag her down to his level.

 

“You don't have to be sorry Oliver. The thing about friends is that they’re really hard to push away.”

 

“Just give it time,” he muttered, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips at her elbow digging into his side.

 

“Well you must not have learned how stubborn I am.”

 

“Oh I’ve seen.”

 

Felicity smiled softly at him, resting her head against his shoulder, and patting the hand she still held in her own.

 

“You’re a good friend Oliver.”

 

The statement both warmed and disappointed him, his mind and heart pulling him in two different directions.

 

“You are too Felicity.” And he meant it. Every word.

 

They sat in a comfortable silence from then on, Oliver realizing in the now silent room something he’d been previously unaware of.

 

The storm had stopped above them, the ship sailing at a smooth pace.

 

And not once, here with Felicity, had he fallen into the creeping panic suffocating his mind.

 

* * *

 

Morning would be creeping creep into the small cabin soon. Though Oliver hadn't slept at all any, neither had Felicity.

 

“Come on, I want to show you something,” she whispered excitedly.

 

“Why are we whispering?”

 

Felicity just laughed, hopping up and over him in a surprisingly graceful move before reaching down and grabbing at his hand, trying to tug him from his prone position.

 

“Just come on, come with me. I want to show you something,” she urged, smiling widely when he sighed heavily, finally letting her tug him forward.

 

“This had better be good,” he teased, reminiscing on how similar her leading hand was now too before.

 

It seemed like so much had changed since then though.

 

“Oh I don't think you’ll regret it.”

 

It turned out he didn't.

 

Felicity led him to the bow of the ship, gesturing animatedly towards the splitting horizon, the sun jetting brightly across the soft waters, beams of light catching on caps of waters creating a glittering image no camera could ever hope of catching. For miles the light stretched, errant birds stretching their wings in the dawning morning, sea playing in the warming sun.

 

The view was beautiful, the woman he was sharing it even more so.

 

Even with his resolve of the inevitable isolation of his future built, the lines he knew he’d put in the sands himself, Oliver couldn't help but indulge.

 

“Felicity?”

 

The hummed response lead him onward.

 

“Maybe we could grab some food sometime? Eating meals alone is getting boring.”

 

The smile she shot him made the question, with every doubt and insecurity, well worth it.

 

“I’d love to Oliver,” she told him happily, eyes sparkling as warm as the sun before turning back towards the sunrise, the smile never slipping from her lips.

 

Oliver smiled softly to himself, watching the way the light playing off Felicity’s face and the breeze tickling at her hair.

 

And for the first time he felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

 

Happiness. 


End file.
